


Summer Wine

by Sarcasmus



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drama, M/M, dubcon?, emotional tension, very grey area of dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasmus/pseuds/Sarcasmus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s been in this business for years. Before Mann Co., he had the same job. Only difference was, now he had seventeen people to study and find the weaknesses of. He knew Scout like the back of his hand. The boy wasn’t hard to read. Both Engineers were generally the same. Those two classes were simple. The most difficult man to figure out? Well, he just trotted out of respawn.</p><p>Something pulled him. A voice in his head suggested the idea, and Spy didn’t bother to question the sudden urge. Spy looked to his left, then to his right. No class was running out of respawn, and Sniper was alone.</p><p>______</p><p>"Do you know if you can use this during off hours of the battlefield?"<br/>Spy arched an eyebrow, eyes narrowing as he plucked the device from Medic's hand. "Most likely, yes. My watch works anywhere, though we are not allowed to use them outside of the base and battleground."<br/>"Would it be against your contract to use both your watch and the disguise kit, say, off hours in our enemy's team base?"<br/>"I'm sure if I were to be caught doing that, I would be fired even if it were not specified in my contract. Doctor, what are you planning?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first multi-chapter fic I've written on my own! Comments would be appreciated, I want to know what people think of this.  
> This story is going to be the first book of four, most likely. First, Sniper/Spy, second, Medic/Scout happening at around the same time as this story, then the third is going to weave both stories together during MvM. The fourth is up in the air with being written, and will be the "Afterwards" of what happens when the war is over. Thank you for reading!

_I tired of the games. For the first time in years, my apathy ebbed away. I cared, and because I did, my eyes opened. Bushman, you were, and are, an open book. So willingly you laid out your compassion and without question you offered your kindness. I have denied responsibility long enough--the crumbling of your walls is entirely my doing. For so long, none of this mattered. I dismissed your emotions from the beginning. Now I know how much those feelings matter._

_But yours do not matter enough to me._

_I am sorry._

 

Exhaling, the rogue silently strode down the stairs of the BLU base. His eyes darted to the left, and he pressed himself against the wall. The enemy Scout let out a whoop as he darted out of respawn, and rushed past him without even pausing. RED Spy tsked, and chuckled. It didn’t matter which team he was on; it seemed that all Scouts were absent-minded and hardly noticed their environment.

He waited for a few more moments before quickly making his way to the briefcase. He managed to get this far… All he had to do was cloak and make his way down to the basement. He wasn’t going to actually carry the briefcase. He didn’t feel like being chased by a handful of buffoons just to get a case containing unknown contents. That was a job for his teammates to attend to.

The monotonous beeping of the BLU sentry rang beside him, and his lips curled in a smile. The Engineer was predictable, to say the least. If it wasn’t the basement, it was right outside the entrance hallway leading down to it.

Opening his cigarette case, he pondered briefly which teammate he should disguise as. He chose the one that Engineer always preferred the company of-- the Pyro. The smoke of his disguise wisped around his body, red suit shimmering to a blue, fire-resistant material as he jogged forward, greeting the Texan with a gleeful mumble.

“Hey there, firebug,” the Engineer said with a smile, adjusting his helmet. “Y’all burnin’ some spooks to a crisp?”

Spy nodded eagerly, and ran past him, turning around with a quick movement to uncloak. Knife sank into flesh and the Engineer fell, tumbling over the wooden planks and down onto the yellow ground with a crack. Spy heard a Medic sneer something in his native tongue below, and he cloaked swiftly before the man could shoot those stinging syringes at his suit. Turning right, he dodged a Heavy leaving respawn and he made another sharp turn down the other way towards the briefcase, only to run into a Pyro. The masked individual wasn’t really looking for an enemy and was only playing with fire, but they didn’t hesitate to make the Spy scream and fall onto the ground.

In respawn, the Frenchman had his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Pyro would be waiting for him, checking around the area for when he returned, and he wasn’t in the mood to jump into the sewers just to pass him. But maybe he could sap the Engineer’s sentry if he, predictably, set up his mechanics in that tunnel… Perhaps. He didn’t want to go through the hassle of dodging hectic commotion on the bridge, however. Decisions, decisions.

Of course, he could always not care. He could just not do what he was supposed to for the day.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Sniper spawned behind him, and the Australian murmured something polite as he passed. Spy had to admit, he was bored. Nothing gave him a thrill anymore. When he came to Teufort and signed up to be in the war, in the first month or two he felt this wonderful spark every time he stabbed someone in the back, or sapped a sentry. A rush shot through him every time he troubled someone and slowed them down…

He’s been in this business for years. Before Mann Co., he had the same job. Only difference was, now he had seventeen people to study and find the weaknesses of. He knew Scout like the back of his hand. The boy wasn’t hard to read. Both Engineers were generally the same. Those two classes were simple. The most difficult man to figure out? Well, he just trotted out of respawn.

Something pulled him. A voice in his head suggested the idea, and Spy didn’t bother to question the sudden urge. He followed the Sniper, but paused when the man stopped and turned the other way, following a shout by a Soldier. The American decided that he wasn’t doing as well as he should be, and used various creative terms to belittle his marksmanship.

“I’m doin’ dandy, ya little blind arse!” he snarled.

“Well you’re not dandy enough, sister!” Soldier barked in response, and a Demoman calling for him was a swift distraction to whatever speech he was about to give.

“Go do somethin’ useful ‘nstead’a hollarin’ at me during battle, eh? Piss off.”

Either Soldier did not hear him, or he couldn’t. He shot a rocket at the ground, and launched himself down to the lower level, where Demoman was calling for him. Spy looked to his left, then to his right. No class was running out of respawn, and Sniper was alone. He ran forward and swiftly tugged Sniper’s vest to follow him, walking through the doorway towards the basement. With both hands on Sniper’s clothes, he pressed his back against the wall, both hidden behind the pile of crates.

“Hello, mon ami,” Spy purred.

The marksman was startled, and his brow furrowed. “Spy, what’re ya doin’? Leggo’a me, we gotta get back to killin’ BLU’s.”

In response, Spy shook his head. “I’m afraid I won’t allow that,” both hands ran down the vest, and tugged on Sniper’s pants. “I think I finally came to a conclusion on how to amuse myself. Killing the same nine people on the daily basis is… A bit redundant, is it not?”

“... Waste’a time,” Sniper mumbled, and he tried to step back. The other man’s grip on his clothing was strong, and his hands didn’t move. Nor did Sniper’s hips. Sniper’s grip on the jar in his hand was strong as well, and he thought the glass was about to break. His eyes were staring at the crates, and avoiding Spy’s gaze, but the rogue didn’t mind in the slightest. Ever since first meeting the man, Sniper was never one for eye contact.

Spy leaned closer to the man’s ear, and a hand strayed to cup the middle of Sniper’s trousers. “Tonight, ‘ow about you keep the door to your vehicle unlocked?”

In response, Sniper hissed and grabbed Spy’s wrist, “Spy, quit it! What’s gotten inta-”

The rogue quickly covered his mouth and cloaked, Scout sprinting out of respawn and cutting a sharp turn down to the basement. He skidded to a stop and almost fell over but regained his balance as he looked at Sniper.

“Dude, the hell you doin’? If you gonna piss in that damn jar, go do it somewhere else! Jeez.” he let out a short laugh and switched to his melee, running down the hallway.

Spy uncloaked and let go of Sniper, receiving a glare from the marksman. “Oh, don’t look so disappointed. I hate to see a scowl on that face of yours.” He took out his cigarette case and plucked a stick from the container. “If you take up my offer, I ‘ope to see your face lit up brightly.”

He didn’t give Sniper time to respond, and abandoned him, leaving disguised as the Engineer.

The ending countdown for battle began, and Spy noticed Medic run out of respawn with a sour expression.

“Losing?” he idly inquired.

“What do you think?” the German snarled.

Spy raised his hands before the timer ended, but Medic switched to his Ubersaw and stood defensively before it reached to zero. The rogue didn’t care for the outcome of the battle, but he was looking forward to whatever events he unfolded.

\----------

“You were pathetic!” Medic said, slamming a fist onto the table. “Everyone on this team was a disgrace to every battle that has ever occurred!”

“That includes the Russian battle of Rome!” Soldier added.

“Rome was not a battle in Russland, you uneducated, pathetic, shovel-wielding idiot!”

All conversations during the after-battle meeting were disinteresting to the Spy. He listened to his friend Medic, or on occasion Engineer for a few moments before Soldier or Scout changed the subject to something ridiculous. Luckily in those few moments, either summed up the point of the meeting. The two’s topics just branched off to scattered stupidities from the other teammates.

Spy began to ignore them, as he always did, and instead thought about the Australian he had confronted during battle that day. His eyes followed whomever was talking, but his focus was never on anyone. One of his specialties was pretending to listen while simultaneously not giving a damn. Would Sniper have left his van unlocked, or would he have to sneak in, as always? He had snooped in the BLU base before. Sniper’s van lock shouldn’t be that hard to pick. The door being locked or open didn’t matter either way for access, but it would be a good opportunity to weigh Sniper’s interest, and how easy the interaction would be. That was the only reason he made a move on the bushman.

It was simply a game.

The meeting was brief, as Medic gave up as soon as Heavy began falling asleep in his seat, and Soldier started the task of picking his nose rather than giving his haphazard input. Spy rose from his seat, tucking his cigarette case into the pocket of his vest. Engineer followed him down the hallway outside, through the back door of RED base.

“Whaddya y’all say ‘bout that, huh Spook?”

Spy instantly focused, as if he was paying attention the entire meeting. “Yes. I do agree with such ideas… Or at least what you and Medic managed to say during that time.”

Engineer let out a chuckle in company with a shrug. “Ya know, I don’t think it matters one bit who wins.”

“Is that so?” As much as he didn’t _mind_ the Texan, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to have small talk.

“Not in the slightest. There ain’t nothing we can do about Mann Co. and all their problems. ‘Course, we’re paid to do all this, don’t get me wrong. Pretty great pay if I do say so myself… But this been goin’ on for, what, three generations?”

“And?”

“Well… When’s it gonna end? Sooner or later, well, what are we gonna do?” He sighed, and took off his hardhat. “You know there ain’t no conclusion. We’re gonna get replaced one’a these days.”

“Such is life, my hardhatted friend,” Spy said blandly in response. “It is simply a job.”

“Some of us don’t got nowhere to go that’s safer,” he paused, and laughed shortly. “Funny thing to say when all we do is shoot each other to lil’ giblets, but it’s true. You know some’a us just ain’t cut out for that real life out there.”

Of all team members, Engineer was one of the most compassionate for the eight men he worked with. He probably tied with Heavy, who was affectionately referred to as “Bear” by Medic. Pyro could simply not be let out in public, and Medic… Medic was a questionable case in various circumstances, along with Soldier. It was a mystery how the Administrator managed to gather the most concerning motley assortment of individuals and force them into this cheap, barren piece of land.

“Engineer,” the Texan looked up in response to his class title. “They are teammates. Not friends. A line is supposed to be drawn, and that is casual companionship. The enjoyment of one’s company is perfectly acceptable, but you care far too much about your team.”

The shorter man’s brow furrowed, and his hands touched the goggles around his eyes, lifting them up and off his head. He stepped closer to Spy, a stern frown on his face, “Spy, I get that you don’t give a damn about us, that’s just- that’s you. But I ain’t you. No one is like you. Even us folks that don’t want friends get ‘em, and you should at least offer a bit’a mutual feelin’s! I mean, what are we?”

Spy rolled his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. “You are a teammate,” he didn’t even bother to hide his distaste. “‘Friend’ is a touch informal, is it not?”

Another tsk was aimed at Engineer as the rogue abandoned him, walking further away from the base. He couldn’t believe the unprofessionalism of his teammates. The concept of connecting with another person and investing emotionally into anyone-- dear God, the mere thought left a bad taste in Spy’s mouth.

\--------------------

The Sniper’s van was a good distance away from the base, and it took a good five minutes to arrive at the doorstep. It was far away enough to shoo away the curious, yet close enough to draw those that had a purpose. Knocking was out of the question. He wasn’t here to be polite and have casual talk. Did the Australian really leave the door unlocked for him? A gloved hand reached forward and clicked open the van, and Spy smirked. So Sniper was inviting him. Interesting to note. Spy sniffed and stepped up into the house on wheels, eyes darting left and right as he took in his surroundings. The redolent musk of the van was welcoming, being an aroma of sage, oil and cedar. Spy never thought the combination of those scents would be agreeable to him, but together the smells were tolerable.

“I did not know that you smoked,” Spy said.

He didn’t receive an answer. The man stepped further inside, and closed the door behind him. The van was surprisingly neat, except for the dishes piled haphazardly in the small sink. A pile of wood shavings collected on the counter next to a knife, and Spy wondered what kind of things the bushman made from them.

“Woodworking?” the rogue questioned, now knowing not to expect a reply. He picked up the knife and examined it, looking to his right at Sniper’s bed. He placed the knife back down and rested his hip on the bed’s side as he reached out and prodded the Australian. “Now is not the time for sleep.”

“Why are ya here?” Sniper finally said.

“You left the door open.” Silence. Spy waited for a response, and once again received nothing. With an eyeroll, he sighed and sat on the mattress. “You know ‘ow we have been fighting for a good few months? I see nothing fun in it any longer. There is no way for me to move on with this job, so I decided to deal with my boredom in this sense.”

Sniper didn’t move. Spy tapped his shoulder. Did this man ever stir just for the sake of movement or did he sleep in all hours of the day outside of work? Spy lay on the bed beside him and continued to nudge him until Sniper growled at him and sat up. “Leave.”

“Is that any way to treat your guests? Dearest Sniper, I am hurt.”

“Whatever ya plan on doin’ is just gonna get me n’ you in a bucket-load’a trouble.”

Spy shrugged and smiled, “not if we are careful. And who cares? Nine men- or, eight, to be fair- ordered to stay put and deal with each other for years? One can assume that a few are bound to be curious.” He grabbed Sniper’s vest and pulled the man on top of him, his eyes continuing to glint with mischief. “I can already guess a few mercenaries that have began thinking alternative ways to amuse themselves with their fellow comrades."

“Oh come off it, you don’t really believe that about Heavy and the the Doc, do ya?” Sniper’s eyes averted once again, looking to his left at the floor.

Spy snorted. “Doubtful. I don’t think our Russian companion cares much for such things, but the doctor? I have my suspicions.”

“For who?”

“Do I hear a touch of jealousy? Or curiosity? Does a certain bushman fancy the handsome doctor?”

Sniper shoved Spy in the shoulder and sat up on the Frenchman’s lap. His muscles were tense, eyes guarded. Spy was more than amused by his demeanor. “Have you ever lain with a man before?”

“No.” Sniper answered simply.

Spy pulled him down again, lips brushing the other man’s jaw. “And ‘ow about a woman?”

No response was given as the rogue slipped off Sniper’s vest, tossing it onto the floor. He searched Sniper’s face, and plucked the aviators from his nose. The expression was just as defensive as his posture, and Spy paused. He knew the man was quiet, but a virgin?

“Almost.”

“‘Almost’ isn’t a yes.”

Sniper shifted uncomfortably, his hips grinding against Spy’s trousers as he did so. Arousal wasn’t something he was attempting to accomplish, but he managed to do it quite well.

“It is not very difficult, and I’m sure you will know what to do naturally,” Spy coaxed. His words were a demand rather than a comforting reassurance.

\---------------

Spy rolled over, onto his side and his nose bumped into a shoulderblade. His eyes lazily gazed in front of him, then closed. He really was still here. It felt like a dream. _He’s warm,_ the Frenchman thought. _I can feel his heat from here._

Itching for a cigarette, and sat up and reached out to his left on the counter where his vest was tossed. He reached in the inside pocket and flicked open his lighter while plucking a cigarette from its cartridge. He lit it, and Sniper stirred next to him. He took in the smoke and exhaled a cloud into the air.

“Time?” Sniper murmured.

Spy glanced at his watch. “Hour ‘til.”

“Hmm,” the half-awake man replied.

With daylight filtering in through the small windows, the van had a different tone. The walls were a mellow, cream orange, and were showing age. The wallpaper was peeling at the edges, and the sealant on the counters had scattered cracks. “How old is this?”

“Since Oi was eighteen,” the bushman replied as he sat up.

“I see,” Spy hummed, “do you eat at the base? I never see you eat what our teammates make.”

“Never hungry,” a pause, “not in the mornin’.”

Spy accepted this answer and reached for his pants, pulling them on his legs as he stood. He closed the button holding them on his slim hips and stood in front of the counter, eying the abandoned coffee pot and packages of ground beans. He turned the faucet, and no water came out. Of course, this van was in the middle of nowhere and not attached to anything. Like hell there was running water. It didn’t look like the van had a bathroom either. Spy opened a cabinet and saw bottles of water, canned soup, and boxed meals. The ones that required water and a stove. But, didn’t look like Sniper used a stove. He wondered idly how on earth the wirey man fed himself as he filled the coffee maker with water from a bottle.

“What are we?” Sniper asked, turned facing the wall. It was mirror image of when Spy came into the van, except for the fact Sniper was missing his shirt.

“I despise that question.” A couple minutes of silence passed, then the water began to boil.

“What’re ya doin’?”

“Making coffee.”

“Why?”

“Maybe if you have caffeine in you you won’t have to sleep so much.” He heard Sniper shift again, this time sitting up to look at him. Was that a glare, or simply a half-conscious gaze of fatigue? Spy put on his shirt and vest, buttoning both up. “I will be leaving now.”

Nothing was said as Spy slipped on his shoes and adjusted his tie.

Sniper repeated himself, “What are we?”

"We are nothing," he replied. "Teammates, nothing more." He glanced at Sniper, who seemed to be absorbing everything the Spy said. "Try not to think too hard on what we did. It isn't very hard to put wandering thoughts aside. We are to go to work and act as if we are nothing more than co-workers."

"Even after that?"

Spy scoffed. "Drink your coffee."


End file.
